Why doctors quit
About a decade ago, a doctor friend
was lamenting the increasingly frustrating conditions of clinical practice.
“How did you know to get out of medicine in 1978?” he asked with a smile.
“I didn’t,” I replied. “I had no
idea what was coming. I just felt I’d chosen the wrong vocation.”
I was reminded of this exchange upon
receiving my med-school class’s 40th-reunion report and reading some of the
entries. In general, my classmates felt fulfilled by family, friends and the
considerable achievements of their professional lives. But there was an
undercurrent of deep disappointment, almost demoralization, with what medical
practice had become.
The complaint was not financial but
vocational — an incessant interference with their work, a deep erosion of their
autonomy and authority, a transformation from physician to “provider.”
As one of them wrote, “My colleagues
who have already left practice all say they still love patient care, being a
doctor. They just couldn’t stand everything else.” By which he meant “a
never-ending attack on the profession from government, insurance companies, and
lawyers . . . progressively intrusive and usually unproductive rules and
regulations,” topped by an electronic health records (EHR) mandate that
produces nothing more than “billing and legal documents” — and degraded
medicine.
I hear this everywhere. Virtually
every doctor and doctors’ group I speak to cites the same litany, with
particular bitterness about the EHR mandate. As another classmate wrote, “The
introduction of the electronic medical record into our office has created so
much more need for documentation that I can only see about three-quarters of
the patients I could before, and has prompted me to seriously consider leaving
for the first time.”
You may have zero sympathy for
doctors, but think about the extraordinary loss to society — and maybe to you,
one day — of driving away 40 years of irreplaceable clinical experience.
And for what? The newly elected
Barack Obama told the nation in 2009 that “it just won’t save billions of dollars” — $77 billion
a year, promised the
administration — “and thousands of jobs, it will save
lives.” He then threw a cool $27 billion at going paperless by 2015.
It’s 2015 and what have we achieved?
The $27 billion is gone, of course. The $77 billion in savings became a joke.
Indeed, reported the Health and Human Services inspector general in 2014, “EHR technology can make it easier to commit fraud,” as in
Medicare fraud, the copy-and-paste function allowing the instant filling of
vast data fields, facilitating billing inflation.
That’s just the beginning of the
losses. Consider the myriad small practices that, facing ruinous transition
costs in equipment, software, training and time, have closed shop, gone
bankrupt or been swallowed by some larger entity.
This hardly stays the long arm of
the health-care police, however. As of Jan. 1, 2015, if you haven’t gone
electronic, your Medicare payments
will be cut, by 1 percent this year, rising to
3 percent (potentially 5 percent) in subsequent years.
Then there is the toll on doctors’
time and patient care. One study in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine
found that emergency-room doctors spend 43 percent of their
time entering electronic records
information, 28 percent with patients. Another study found that family-practice
physicians spend on average 48
minutes a day just entering clinical data.
Forget the numbers. Think just of
your own doctor’s visits, of how much less listening, examining, even eye
contact goes on, given the need for scrolling, clicking and box checking.
The geniuses who rammed this through
undoubtedly thought they were rationalizing health care. After all, banking
went electronic. Why not medicine?
Because banks deal with nothing but
data. They don’t listen to your heart or examine your groin. Clicking boxes on
an endless electronic form turns the patient into a data machine and cancels
out the subtlety of a doctor’s unique feel and judgment.
Why did all this happen? Because
liberals in a hurry refuse to trust the self-interested wisdom of individual
practitioners, who were already adopting EHR on their own, but gradually,
organically, as the technology became ripe and the costs tolerable. Instead,
Washington picked a date out of a hat and decreed: Digital by 2015.
As with other such arbitrary
arrogance, the results are not pretty. EHR is health care’s Solyndra. Many, no
doubt, feasted nicely on the $27 billion, but the rest is waste: money
squandered, patients neglected, good physicians demoralized.
Like my old classmates who signed up
for patient care — which they still love — and now do data entry.
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